I am really bad at blogging. Kerry Clare, blogging guru, and general lovely, says you should blog like no one’s reading. And she’s right. But blogging does not come easily to me. I am not and have never been a blurter (not a word synonymous with blogger, and with a more negative connotation than I intend; I mean someone who is willing and able to share their thoughts easily, spontaneously — in conversation with one or many…) and it is boring to repeat, but I am very tired of late. And when I am tired, I hang back and listen. And sometimes I daydream or look pensive (this is a defense and a front and a refuge and seldom means my thoughts have anything approaching depth or breadth). So maybe my poor blogging output is simply a function of exhaustion. Or maybe this is not the ideal platform/medium/springboard for me. Or maybe it’s just February and springtime really will put a new spring in my blogging step…

However. If anything could and should get me in sharing mode, it is the intersection of some of my most time-consuming preoccupations — motherhood, sense-making through sentence-making, and community with other lady writers… Here’s the scoop: Truth Dare Doubledare: Stories of Motherhood will be published in April 2014 by Goose Lane Editions. The book, an anthology of essays conceived and curated by the aforementioned Kerry Clare, examines the choices we make as women around ‘to mother or not to mother’ and the many options that fall somewhere in between. I am thrilled to be a part of it. You can read more about its conception here.

Also: a really kind and astute encounter with Mad Hope, over at Marita Dachsel’s All Things Said and Done. And rob mclennan asks me about my process, routine, and writerly concerns as part of his 12 or 20 Questions Interview series. ( I find I can’t do any kind of kind of interview, or have any kind of conversation these days without mentioning coffee. I really love coffee.)

I am writing this from Montreal, where I am visiting an old friend, the poet Sarah Venart, a writing pal from my Concordia days. Our kids are making believe and mischief and wreaking havoc (Princess Grizzly Bear!) and saying and singing ridiculous things. And we’re doing a lot of sofa sitting. It’s kind of fabulous.